


Harry Potter and the Synonyms of Rodent

by MoreRealUnicorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, don't read if you're looking for anything serious, or sirius, sirius does not appear, this is pure 100 percent unadulterated crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoreRealUnicorn/pseuds/MoreRealUnicorn
Summary: Voldemort receives information of a threat to his days of betting on Muggle baseball matches, but can the Snakemobile get there in time?





	Harry Potter and the Synonyms of Rodent

            Tom Marvolo Riddle- nay, Rollover Dot, M.D.- the name is a work in progress, alright? I’d like to see you make up a suitably evil acronym of your full name with vague overtones of your schtick in another language on the spot. In any case, You-Know-Who was spectating one last round of his favorite sport, which you assume is Muggle-baiting, before he called the meeting to order. His newest servant, Peter Pettigrew, coughed awkwardly and turned to his sponsor, Lucius Malfoy.

            “Er, Lucius, do we actually do anything at these meetings?” he whispered. “It’s just, I kinda turned traitor because I was so terrified of you all…” The silky-haired patriarch of the ninth-richest family in Wizarding England- any claims in Better Homes & Decorative Peacocks that they had slipped to double digits are lies and libel- turned to the rat-like rookie.

            “Why, Peter, I would almost think you didn’t want to be here…” he elongated with an inexplicably Texan drawl. The person of rodentine features nodded anxiously.

            “Yes yes, I just said that! I don’t! But when do we get to the murder?” Lucius turned his head sharply, catching the sminthian sycophant with an expertly placed wave of luscious golden locks. The Death-Eater-who-resembled-an-acorn-collector hacked up a hairball in a manner evocative of his greatest natural predator. Pulling the last few yellow strands out of his mouth, the-being-who-appears-to-be-able-to-predict-whether-winter-will-end-in-two-weeks-or-six made to speak to the entire group, but just as he opened his mouth, revealing curving yellow incisors, there was at last a sign of life from their glorious leader, Droll Roomed TV. Yes, Dill Move At Mordor had spoken at last.

            “Blast it, I had three sickles on the Dodgers! I ought to replace their newfangled juiced-up ball with a Snitch, and then we’ll see how far Jose Rigo can stretch a single!” Lucius, sensing his cue, stepped up and held out a gloved hand with a polite cough. He hadn’t become the leader of the sixth richest family in the Wizarding World by sitting on his ass all day (lies and libel!). Although the Malfoy family motto might as well have been “We Always, And I Do Mean Always, Live Up To The French Translation Of Our Name, Even For You Current Master, Sorry No Exceptions, Gratuity Of Parties Of Six Or More Added”, it was actually the much more concise “A Knut Saved Is A Knut Not Outperforming The Market In A Diversified Hedge Fund”. Certain other Death Eaters were highly jealous of even that behemoth. The thing-with-characteristics-like-unto-the-naked-mole-rat, for example, had “We Are Mice As Smart As People, We Will Kill You In Your Sleeple” on both his left cheeks due to the combination of an ancestor having thoroughly enjoyed the classic Disney film and a raucous Marauder party in the unfortunately proximate vicinity of a tattoo shop. This may, in fact, have been the driving impetus behind the small furry vermin’s betrayal of his friends. Sure, they’d all had them done, but seeing as the Black, Potter, and Lupin family crests were respectively “B”, “P”, and “~” (Remus had also had a wacko ancestor), he had rather felt they’d gotten off too easily.

            Pushing through the crowd of bemasked blood supremacists collecting small bags of coins from their leader, the capybara, which here means the largest living rodent in the world, usually native to South America but in this case native to 14 Unenthusiastic Alley, threw himself down and cried out, in a squeaky voice, “When will I have my revenge, My Lord?” Old Dirt Mover, LMAO considered the pathetic heap of whiskers in front of him.

            “Alas, Peter, if only there was a suitable justification for me to murder your friends. As it is, I need a refill on these Demon Drops." He tossed a yellow cardboard container upon which an “L” had been aggressively find-and-replaced to the tremulous animal-which-damns-rivers. Just then, as if summoned by some utterly contrived and wholly Potions-Master-ex-machina plot, a large batlike figure swooped in from above and landed on the head of the popular kindergarten classroom pet. With a twirl of its wings, the batlike silhouette revealed itself to in fact be a bat. Then, with a much unfolding of robes and many creative camera angles, the bat twisted into the familiar batlike visage of none other than Severus Snape. He glanced around at the assembled servants, and those unprepared few who did not duck in time were skewered on his hooklike nose and twitched off to bleed out in a corner. The survivors quickly conjured up shields, well-aware of the next impending wave in his assault. A quick hair flip and tsunamis of greases poured off only to batter ineffectually against the glowing green hemispheres. Snape sighed in disappointment, then bowed slightly to the man on the throne. When he did, a walkie-talkie fell out of his pocket and immediately went off.

            “KZRK- is Alastor Moody, are you in posi- KRZRKK” Everyone there ignored it.

            “Lord. There was a prophecy. The Potter brat has been foretold to destroy you.” Motor Marvel Dildo leaned forward, his 10-inch television forgotten.

            “Truly? Then I shall go at once! To the Snakemobile!” The room erupted in hissing as every single person immediately dropped with a sibilant sizzle and began doing the Worm. Old Immortal Lover stepped on most of their backs as he stalked to his custom-made motorcycle outside.

            Only twenty minutes later, he was outside Potter Cottage in Godric’s Hollow. With the Fidelius broken, he could clearly see inside. All three inhabitants appeared to be in the living room: the tike waddling about while his parents cooed their approval. He blasted open the kitchen door, but was stymied by an unexpected obstacle at the archway leading to his next victims. He had unlocked countless arcane mysteries, but this one was perhaps beyond even his power. A baby gate. He stared down at the instructions, and then glared at them. The tousle-haired former Quidditch star came over.

            “It’s tricky, I know. You’ve got to push down and pull out at the same time.” He glared at the well-meaning father, whose name he couldn’t quite recall.

            “I AM pushing down and pulling out!” The Mudblood ginger had picked up the child, who had begun to fuss, but she called over.

            “Jiggle it, he has to jiggle it.” Lord Earldom Vomit could easily distinguish between a swish, a flick, a snap, and a whirl, but none of the Dark curses he’d learned required one to jiggle. He tried again, but then his attention was caught by a small riot of color inside.

            “Hey, is the game on? I didn’t know it was a doubleheader!” Jeoffey- that was it, Joff – smiled, taken aback.

            “Come on in and watch it! We never get company these days.” He entered and had a seat, reaching out to catch the beer Jedediah tossed him.

            Ah. This was the life.


End file.
